Japan by Billy Collins

Today I pass the time reading

a favorite haiku,

saying the few words over and over.



It feels like eating

the same small, perfect grape

again and again.



I walk through the house reciting it

and leave its letters falling

through the air of every room.



I stand by the big silence of the piano and say it.

I say it in front of a painting of the sea.

I tap out its rhythm on an empty shelf.



I listen to myself saying it,

then I say it without listening,

then I hear it without saying it.



And when the dog looks up at me,

I kneel down on the floor

and whisper it into each of his long white ears.



It's the one about the one-ton temple bell

with the moth sleeping on its surface,



and every time I say it, I feel the excruciating

pressure of the moth

on the surface of the iron bell.



When I say it at the window,

the bell is the world

and I am the moth resting there.



When I say it at the mirror,

I am the heavy bell

and the moth is life with its papery wings.



And later, when I say it to you in the dark,

you are the bell,

and I am the tongue of the bell, ringing you,



and the moth has flown

from its line

and moves like a hinge in the air above our bed.

by Billy Collins

Regards to the Japanese people effected by the tsunami and earthquake. I hope everything turns out amazing. Which i expect it will. The Japanese people are a resilient population. I hope good things come your way.

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The Little-Neck Clam by Henry Van Dyke

A modern verse-sequence, showing how a native American subject, strictly realistic, may be treated in various manners adapted to the requirements of different magazines, thus combining Art-for-Art's-Sake with Writing-for-the-Market. Read at the First Dinner of the American Periodical Publishers' Association, in Washington, April, 1904.

I
THE ANTI-TRUST CLAM
For _McClure's Magazine_
The clam that once, on Jersey's banks,
Was like the man who dug it, free,
Now slave-like thro' the market clanks
In chains of corporate tyranny.
The Standard Fish-Trust of New York
Holds every clam-bank in control;
And like base Beef and menial Pork,
The free-born Clam has lost its soul.
No more the bivalve treads the sands
In freedom's rapture, free from guilt:
It follows now the harsh commands
Of Morgiman and Rockabilt.
Rise, freemen, rise! Your wrath is just!
Call on the Sherman Act to dam
The floods of this devouring Trust,
And liberate the fettered Clam.

II
THE WHITMANIAC CLAM
For the _Bookman_
Not Dante when he wandered by the river Arno,
Not Burns who plowed the banks and braes of bonnie Ayr,
Not even Shakspere on the shores of Avon,--ah, no!
Not one of those great bards did taste true Poet's Fare.
But Whitman, loafing in Long Island and New Jersey,
Found there the sustenance of mighty ode and psalm,
And while his rude emotions swam around in verse, he
Fed chiefly on the wild, impassioned, sea-born clam.
Thus in his work we feel the waves' bewildering motion,
And winds from mighty mud-flats, weird and wild:
His clam-filled bosom answered to the voice of ocean,
And rose and fell responsively with every tide.

III
IL MERCATORE ITALIANO DELLA CLAMMA
For the _Century Magazine_
"Clam O! Fres' Clam!" How strange it sounds and sweet,
The Dago's cry along the New York street!
"Dago" we call him, like the thoughtless crowd;
And yet this humble man may well be proud
To hail from Petrarch's land, Boccaccio's home,--
Firenze, Gubbio, Venezia, Rome,--
From fair Italia, whose enchanted soil
Transforms the lowly cotton-seed to olive-oil.
To me his chant, with alien accent sung,
Brings back an echo of great Virgil's tongue:
It seems to cry against the city's woe,
In liquid Latin syllables,--_Clamo_!
As thro' the crowded street his cart he jams
And cries aloud, ah, think of more than clams!
Receive his secret plaint with pity warm,
And grant Italia's plea for Tenement-House Reform!

IV
THE SOCIAL CLAM
For the _Smart Set_
Fair Phyllis is another's bride:
Therefore I like to sit beside
Her at a very smart set dinner,
And whisper love, and try to win her.
The little-necks,--in number six,--
That from their pearly shells she picks
And swallows whole,--ah, is it selfish
To wish my heart among those shell-fish?
"But Phyllis is another's wife;
And if she should absorb thy life
'Twould leave thy bosom vacant."--Well,
I'd keep at least the empty shell!

V
THE RECREANT CLAM
For the _Outlook_
Low dost thou lie amid the languid ooze,
Because thy slothful spirit doth refuse
The bliss of battle and the strain of strife.
Rise, craven clam, and lead the strenuous life!

BY Henry Van Dyke

More by Henry Van Dyke

1. The Story of Other Wise Man
2. The Mansion
3. Talk to the Snail
4. The Poems of Henry Van Dyke

WORD OF THE DAY:

ersatz

\ AIR-sahts; UR-sats \  , adjective;

1.

Being a substitute or imitation, usually an inferior one.

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PERFECT WOMAN by William Wordsworth

HE was a phantom of delight

When first she gleam'd upon my sight;

A lovely apparition, sent

To be a moment's ornament;

Her eyes as stars of twilight fair;

Like twilight's, too, her dusky hair;

But all things else about her drawn

From May-time and the cheerful dawn;

A dancing shape, an image gay,

To haunt, to startle, and waylay.

 

I saw her upon nearer view,

A Spirit, yet a Woman too!

Her household motions light and free,

And steps of virgin liberty;

A countenance in which did meet

Sweet records, promises as sweet;

A creature not too bright or good

For human nature's daily food;

For transient sorrows, simple wiles,

Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.

 

And now I see with eye serene

The very pulse of the machine;

A being breathing thoughtful breath,

A traveller between life and death;

The reason firm, the temperate will,

Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;

A perfect Woman, nobly plann'd,

To warn, to comfort, and command;

And yet a Spirit still, and bright

With something of angelic light. 

by William Wordsworth

Poetry of the day Review:
William wordsworth, aka, Bill Wordsmith. Is one of my favorite writers. This poem represents what its like for a man to be in love with a woman. I wonder if he recited this poem to the woman who inspired the poem.


Word of the Day:

puckish

\ PUHK-ish \  , adjective;

1.

Whimsical; mischievous; impish.

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Partying, it's what lifes all about. by Beonca Hobson

Partying,

It's what life's all about.

If you agree,

Scream and shout.



You know what I'm saying,

It's what lifes all about.

You got a job it's paying,

It's 3 a.m. and your sneaking out.



Money's going towards booze,

It's what lifes all about.

It's noon and your rolling over and hitting snooze,

It's 3 a.m. again and your sneaking out.



You never see daylight,

The curtains in your room are black.

Your stoned and taking flight,

But for all you care you could live in a shack.



It's what lifes all about,

Spending money on booze.

It's 3 a.m. again and your sneaking out,

It's noon all over again and your rolling over and hitting snooze.

Partying, it's what lifes all about.
by

girls partying

Poetry of the day review:
i love partying... ive been partying for 3 days now. y? Y, not.

The word of the day:

confute

   \ kuhn-FYOOT \  , transitive verb;

1.

To overwhelm by argument; to refute conclusively; to prove or show to be false.

1. College and the Art of Partying
2. The Fun & Exciting World Of Singles Travel, And How To Start Partying In The Worlds Hottest Destinations With Beautiful Singles!
3. The Art of Partying

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Dont Quit by Unknown

When things go wrong as they sometimes will,
When the road you're trudging seems all uphill,
When funds are low and the debts are high,
And you want to smile, but you have to sigh.
When care is pressing you down a bit.
Rest, if you must, but don't you quit.
Life is queer with its twists and turns
As every one of us sometimes learns.
And many a failure turns about
When he might have won had he stuck it out:
Don't give up though the pace seems slow -
You may succeed with another blow.
Success is failure turned inside out -
The silver tint of the clouds of doubt.
And you never can tell how close you are.
It may be near when it seems so far:
So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit
It's when things seem worst that you must not quit.

IM BI WINNING. hammering 7g ROCKS cause thats how i roll.

Poetry of the day review:
If you keep trying your never doing. Nike doesnt say. "just try it" nike says " JUST DO IT".  You too can have tiger blood like charlie sheen. =]

WORD OF THE DAY:

gastronome

   \ GAS-truh-nohm \  , noun;

1.

A connoisseur of good food and drink.

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What are Bitcoins

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Love by William Shakespear

Tell me where is Fancy bred,
Or in the heart or in the head!
How begot, how nourished?
Reply, reply.
It is engender'd in the eyes,
With gazing fed; and Fancy dies
In the cradle where it lies.
Let us all ring Fancy's knell;
I'll begin it, - Ding, dong, bell.

by William Shakespear

Poetry of the day review:
Who doesnt enjoy a little Shakespear every once in a while.

Word of the day:

masticate

\ MAS-tih-kayt \  , transitive verb;

1.

To grind or crush with or as if with the teeth in preparation for swallowing and digestion; to chew; as, "to masticate food."

2.

To crush or knead (rubber, for example) into a pulp.

More Shakespear Sonnets

• Sonnet 5
• Sonnet 4
• Sonnet 3
• Sonnet 2

Other Shakespear Poetry

• Love
• Dirge
• Fairyland I